f victory!
Wild his eyes, yet nought he noteth;
With an ancient hate they glare:
Backward on the billow floateth,
All disorderly, his hair."

Still the Caspian, calm reclining,
Seems to slumber on his shore;
And impetuous Terek, shining,
Murmurs in his ear once more:--

"Father, hark! a priceless treasure--
Other gifts are poor to this--
I have hid, to do thee pleasure--
I have hid in my abyss!
Lo! a corse my wave doth pillow--
A Kazaichka[23] young and fair.
Darkly pale upon the billow
Gleams her breast and golden hair;
Very sad her pale brow gleameth,
And her eyes are closed in sleep;
From her bosom ever seemeth
A thin purple stream to creep.
By my water, calm and lonely,
For the maid that comes not back,
Of the whole Stanilza,[24] only
Mourns a Grebenskoi Kazak.

"Swift on his black steed he hieth;
To the mountains he is sped.
'Neath Tchetchen's kinjal[25] now lieth,
Low in dust, that youthful head."

Silent then was that wild river;
And afar, as white as snow,
A fair head was seen to quiver
In the ripple, to and fro.

In his might the ancient ocean,
Like a tempest, 'gan arise;
And the light of soft emotion
Glimmer'd in his dark-blue eyes;

And he play'd, with rapture flushing,
And in his embraces bright,
Clasp'd the stream, to meet him rushing
With a murmur of delight.

FOOTNOTES:

[21] A river which, rising on the eastern side of the ridge of
the Caucasus, falls, after a rapid and impetuous course, into the
Caspian, near Anapa.

[22] A mountaineer of the tribe of Kabarda.

[23] A Kazak girl.

[24] Village of Kazaks.

[25] Kinjal, a large dagger, the favourite weapon of the
mountain tribes of the Caucasus, among which the Tchetchenetzes are
distinguished for bravery.

MARSTON; OR, THE MEMOIRS OF A STATESMAN.

PART VI.

"Have I not in my time heard lions roar?
Have I not heard the sea, puft up with wind,
Rage like an angry boar chafed with sweat?
Have I not heard great ordnance in the field,
And heaven's artillery thunder in the skies?
Have I not in the pitched battle heard
Loud 'larums, neighing steeds, and trumpets clang?"

SHAKSPEARE.

My first questions to Lafontaine, when I had his wound looked to, were
of course for those whom he had left in England.

"Ah, ha!" said he with a laugh, which showed the inextinguishable
Frenchman, "are you constant still? Well, then, Madame la Comtesse is
constant too; but it is to